


You Can Sin Or Spend The Night All Alone

by onceuponatime



Category: 5 Seconds of Summer (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Car Sex, M/M, Riding, Smut, cause thats really hot, luke wears eyeliner, michael wears eyeliner too, punk!calum, punk!michael, sweaty boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:35:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,881
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563075
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/onceuponatime/pseuds/onceuponatime
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"“Uh, Michael this is Luke,” Calum says, gesturing with his free hand between the two men. “And Luke, this is Michael.”<br/>“’Lo, Michael,” Luke says, sipping at his warm beer. Michael gives him a dorky little smile-and-wave combo which looks so out of place, considering Michael looks like some 70’s punk band spat him out. Eyebrow piercing and all."</p><p>Luke and Michael meet at Ashton's band's show.</p>
            </blockquote>





	You Can Sin Or Spend The Night All Alone

**Author's Note:**

> okay so here's this big 'ol cliche that I wrote. Basically I'm avoiding all my actual responsibilities and writing garbage but what are you gonna do? this wasn't even supposed to be that long.  
> the title is from Me vs. Maradona vs. Elvis by Brand New which you should definitely listen to because it's amazing and makes me feel things. and is about a one night stand at a bar. how fitting  
> (Also have you seen all this shit muke are pulling lately? it is legitimately going to kill me why do they do this? let me live)

 “Why do I need to put this shit on?” Luke asks, staring coldly at his reflection in the mirror.

“Because even if you don’t wanna go, it would be cool if you looked like you belong there,” Calum replies from where he’s sitting on Luke’s bed, lacing up his Doc Martens.

“This is so stupid. I don’t listen to the band, why am I putting so much effort into fitting in at their gig?” Luke fiddles with the nub of eyeliner pencil in his fingers, pulling the cap off with a small _pop_. “Where did you even get this?”

“Because you’re my wingman and you wouldn’t dream of abandoning me in my time of need. And I stole that from Mali so don’t let my thieving be in vain,” Calum says as he shrugs into his leather jacket. “Now please hurry the fuck up and line your eyes, the show starts at half ten, and I wanna get up the front.”

Luke huffs out a breath and moves closer to the mirror, poking around his eye and trying to figure out how to apply the make-up. “I’m gonna look ridiculous,” he mumbles, more to himself than to Calum, but starts circling his eyes in black anyway.

When he finishes, he checks himself out in the mirror, surprised at how good it actually looks. He does look kind of punky, and likes the way it seems to make his face less babyish, but he won’t admit that out loud – especially not to Calum. He tousles his hair up a bit more before sitting on his bed and pulling his own Vans on.

“Lookin’ good, Luke,” Calum says when he comes out of Luke’s en-suite. “But you should smudge it up a bit; it looks too perfect. You sure you’ve never put it on before?”

Luke flips him the bird, pulling his wallet out of his bedside drawer, checking for ID and money. “You shouldn’t make fun of me; otherwise you’ll be going to this thing by yourself.”

“You wouldn’t do that to me,” Calum says, stepping in front of the mirror to adjust his hair for the fiftieth time. This crush he has is getting ridiculous, Luke thinks, as he watches Calum apply more product to his fringe, messing with it and twirling it through his fingers.

“How about tonight you actually talk to the guy?” Luke suggests. “You know, instead of turning up at every one of his shows and drooling over him before drinking yourself into oblivion?” Luke’s getting tired of this routine. It’s been the same since Calum first saw the local punk band play in some iffy little bar three months ago and fell for the drummer.

But this is their first show in a venue that can fit more than forty people, so Calum’s going all out – studded leather jacket, Doc Martens and everything. Luke’s actually a little surprised he didn’t turn up sporting a Mohawk and numerous facial piercings.

“I _have_ talked to him,” Calum huffs out. “He’s just so beautiful it’s actually intimidating and I forget how speaking works.” Luke rolls his eyes and shoves his wallet into his arse pocket before heading towards the door.

“C’mon, before my mom sees this shit all over my face.”

***

“Luke!” Liz shouts the second he reaches the front door. “I’m glad I caught you before you left. Hello, Calum darling. Good to see you,” She says as she walks in from the kitchen, dishcloth slung over her shoulder and clutching a wooden spoon in her hand.

“What’s up, mom?” Luke asks at the same time Calum answers “Hey, Liz.”

“Just wanted to remind you not to come home in that bad of a state tonight, Jack’s coming ‘round for dinner tomorrow afternoon. And he’s bringing one of his college friends so try not to be too hung-over.” Luke wants to roll his eyes, because really, he doesn’t need to be reminded that Jack’s coming for dinner. It’s all his mother has been talking about for three weeks. And it’s not even that Jack lives far away – he goes to the local university (the same one Luke goes to, he just hasn’t moved out yet) and is literally a twenty minute drive from home. It’s just ever since he moved out he’s been busy with college work and doesn’t have time to come and visit them that often.

But Luke’s not bitter. He’s just a little annoyed because Jack moving out seemed to remind his mom that they’re not kids anymore, and soon Luke will be moving out too, and all this has done is make her baby him and coo over him like he’s four years old. He’s not gonna lie, it was nice at the start, but he’s nineteen years old – he doesn’t need her to cut up his spaghetti anymore.

He starts sidling towards the door, trying to give her subtle hints that he and Calum really need to leave soon. “Okay, mom.”

“Where are you going anyway?” She asks, turning to Calum. “He never tells me anything,” Liz says, motioning to Luke with the wooden spoon. This time Luke does roll his eyes.

Calum chuckles. “We’re going to a gig in town. One of the local bands is playing.”

“Oh, anyone I know?”

“I don’t even know them,” Luke says. “But it’s starting soon so we should probably get going.”

“Alright, alright,” Liz says, turning to head back into the kitchen. “Enjoy yourselves. And don’t forget about dinner.”

***

The gig is in the biggest bar in town, one of the underground rock clubs that Luke doesn’t go to all that much but Calum thinks of as his second home. By the time they get there, the place is already swarming with people, the smell of sweat, alcohol and cheap cologne making the air stale and thick. Luke already regrets wearing the heavy denim jacket, and wonders how Calum is gonna stick it out in his leather.

Calum is already dragging him towards the stage, ploughing through the small crowd of people congregated there already and securing the two of them a place right at the front. There’s no barrier, so they’re literally right in front of the stage. Luke can practically feel Calum vibrating with excitement beside him.

They stand and watch the crew set up the equipment for a few moments before Luke decides he needs strong alcohol. “I’m gonna get a drink, do you want anything?” Luke shouts, leaning in close to Calum to be heard over the loud AC/DC blaring from the speakers two feet away from them. His poor ears are gonna be ringing by the time he gets out of this place.

“No thanks,” Calum shouts back. “But you better hurry ‘cause they’re coming on soon and you’re not gonna be able to get back up the front.” Luke nods before turning and pushing his way through the growing crowd, muttering a ‘sorry’ every time he bumps into someone.

Luke orders Calum a beer at the bar anyway. He knows Calum, and knows he’ll only end up stealing Luke’s drink to cope with his nerves. Luke’s actually a little shocked he hasn’t been drinking already.

While he waits for the bartender to pour his drinks, he looks out at the thickening crowd and wonders if it’s even worth trying to make it back to Calum. When the band walks out, Calum probably won’t even notice that Luke’s not by his side. But the idea of standing by himself at the bar isn’t really inviting either so he decides to take his chances with wrestling through the eighty or so punks that look like they could kick his ass with their eyes closed. When the bartender slides him his drinks and after Luke pays he nods a thanks before starting to struggle his way back to Calum.

Getting out of a crowd is a lot easier than trying to get back to the front, Luke realises. But eventually he’s near enough to Calum to shout for him to help or something, stick a hand back and pull him the rest of the way. Luke’s already spilled a third of his beer, his hands sticky with it falling over the rim of the glasses. His fringe is starting to fall into his eyes, and he doesn’t have a free hand to shove it off his forehead.

“Calum! Hey Cal!” He shouts, shouldering through small gaps and trying to reach his friend. He curses under his breath as more beer sloshes over the side of his cup and wets some stranger’s jacket. Luke’s just glad the man didn’t notice and smash his face in. “Cal!” he calls again, and this time Calum does turn around, looking at Luke as if to say “what the fuck is your problem?” before turning away from him again.

When Luke gets closer he sees that his space beside Calum has been filled by some dude with shockingly pink hair. The both of them are in deep conversation about something, Pink Hair’s arms flapping about and Calum’s head thrown back in laughter. If Calum wasn’t trying to get into the drummer’s pants so bad, Luke would say he was flirting. He sends a hard stare at the back of Calum’s head because he dragged him out here and then didn’t even bother to save his space. Luke pours some of Calum’s beer into his own glass and then starts moving closer to him again.

He tips Calum’s shoulder when he finally gets to him and hands him his half a beer in silence. Calum accepts it with a muttered ‘thanks’, not even questioning where the rest of it went when he sees the look on Luke’s face.

“Uh, Michael this is Luke,” Calum says, gesturing with his free hand between the two men. “And Luke, this is Michael.”

“’Lo, Michael,” Luke says, sipping at his warm beer. Michael gives him a dorky little smile-and-wave combo which looks so out of place, considering Michael looks like some 70’s punk band spat him out. Eyebrow piercing and all.

“Is this your first time seeing the band?” Michael shouts, leaning in closer to Luke so that he can be heard over the loud music. Luke is actually a little taken aback with how _pretty_ Michael is – all pale skin and soft features. His eyes are wide, and even in the dark lighting Luke can see how green they are. And his lips – oh God. He can’t take his eyes from Michael’s lips; they’re so plump and red, and he can’t help but wonder if Michael is wearing some kind of lipstick. He wants to rub Michael’s bottom lip with his thumb to see if any of the colour comes off. Or maybe use his own lips. Whatever.

He’s pulled out of his trance when he sees more than hears Michael say his name, suddenly feeling embarrassed. From the corner of his eye he can see Calum staring at him, looking at him like he’s the biggest moron on the planet. “Yeah, it is. I’ve heard great things about them though,” he answers. “Calum’s their biggest fan,” he says, gesturing to Calum even though Michael knows who he is. God, he’s so awkward.

“Oh you’re here with Cal?” (Cal? Luke thinks. He didn’t even realise that Calum had other friends, never mind close ones that call him _Cal_.) “Did I take your spot?” Michael asks, leaning in even closer, and Luke can make out the faint stubble that’s decorating Michael’s jaw. Luke shakes his head no, and takes another sip of his beer. It’s disgusting. “Nah, man, I did, here, just lemme,” And then there are hands tight on his waist and he’s spinning and then he’s back beside Calum, his back to the stage and Michael standing in the space he was occupying just a second ago. He decides he’s not nearly drunk enough for this.

“Uh..” Luke says, looking between Calum and Michael because he has no idea what just happened.

“I’ve seen ‘em a million times. Rehearsals and everything. I don’t need front row,” Michael says, winking at Luke. Luke thinks there’s not enough alcohol on the planet to make him drunk enough for this. He’s friends with Calum – he’s not usually the one pretty people with flamboyant hair and eyebrow piercings flirt with. But Michael’s cute, he’ll take it. And if his voice decides to work again anytime soon, he’ll give it, too.

“Michael’s friends with Ashton,” Calum explains. “I met him at their first gig.” It takes Luke a second to place the name Ashton and then it clicks – he’s the drummer.

Michael opens his mouth to reply, but is cut off by loud cheering and when Luke turns back to face the stage he sees three silhouettes walking out, one of them saluting the crowd and taking his place in front of the microphone. Luke looks over at Calum, and almost laughs at what he sees. Calum’s big doe eyes are staring right at Ashton, mouth open a little bit. Luke turns to look at Michael, to ask him if he’s seeing this. But Michael is already staring at him, eyes dark. When he catches Luke’s looking, he smirks and raises a pierced eyebrow.

Luke drinks more of his beer.

***

Luke can see why Calum likes this band. Monstrous crush on Ashton aside, their music is actually quite good and Luke can see himself becoming a fan. They’re heavy, really heavy, and the bass is making the floor vibrate and Luke’s heart thump. The latter could also be because Michael is right behind him. Like, chest flush against Luke’s back. When the band walked onstage, the crowd surged forward, crushing Michael right up against Luke. He’s not complaining. And he’s _definitely_ not thinking of the husky chuckle and “shit sorry” that was shouted into his ear.

The crowd are getting a lot more rowdy and a lot more drunk, and Luke wonders how they managed to start a mosh pit in such a small area, but not too far away from him there’s one. The only thing he can do is jump along with everyone else, sweat dripping down his neck and back and coating his forehead. His skinny jeans are clinging to him in the most uncomfortable way, and he knows his eyeliner is probably running down his face but he doesn’t care. Everyone else probably looks like shit, too.

The singer screams out that they only have one song left, which seems to rile the crowd up even more because they push forward again. Luke isn’t the most stable at the best of times, and he’s kind of a lightweight, so his one beer has him a little unsteady on his feet. He’s astonished he’s managed to stay upright for so long, and so thinks it’s in due time when he trips over his own feet and starts to fall towards the ground.

Except he doesn’t hit the floor, because the second he loses his balance, there are strong arms around his waist, pulling him tight against a warm body. He’s about to thank Calum, but then Michael is shouting “whoah, steady,” and laughing in his ear. He looks back over his shoulder, meeting Michael’s eyes. They look completely black, irises completely obliterated by his pupils, and something stirs in Luke’s stomach.

For a second Luke’s sure they’re going to kiss. He’s seen this situation in enough romantic comedies to know that this is the part where people kiss. And he _wants_ to kiss Michael. All Michael has to do is move forward an inch and their mouths would be touching, and Luke can’t think of anything he’s ever wanted more in his entire life. His tongue is dry, his skin tingling where Michael is pressed against him, and he just wants. Needs.  

But the moment is broken when the last chord of the show rings out, and the crowd cheers and jumps, jostling Michael and Luke and breaking their eye contact. When he’s sure Luke is steady, Michael takes his arms from Luke’s waist and smiles sweetly at him, before moving his eyes back up to the stage where the band members are bowing and saying their thanks.

Luke looks at him for a couple more seconds before turning back in time to see Ashton wave at Calum, and Calum just about drop dead on the spot. His own heart is racing, palms sweaty and clammy. He tries taking deep breaths to calm himself down, can’t help thinking about the soft curve of Michael’s lips or the feel of his hands tight against his hips.

And he’s still really fucking sober.

***

Luke’s sitting on one of the bar stools, holding a fresh pint and watching Calum flirt with Ashton. It’s a little bit pathetic, Luke thinks. Calum’s over exaggerated laugh and not so subtle touches are so obvious it’s painful. But Luke can’t talk about being pathetic, because Michael is literally sitting on his own two stools away and Luke can’t even look at him.

So he continues watching Calum and Ashton, Ashton rubbing a hand up and down Calum’s arm and honest to God batting his eyelashes at him. Luke doesn’t know whether to coo or vomit.

“Infuriating, isn’t it?” someone says to Luke’s left and Luke doesn’t have to look to know who it is. He’s been replaying that voice over and over in his head since he heard it for the first time. He turns in his seat to look at Michael, heart flipping when he sees him, sipping his drink through a straw and smiling at Luke. “I mean, it was cute at the start, but even _I’m_ starting to get blue balls looking at them.”

Luke laughs. “I’ve had to hear about it every day for the past three months. I’m seriously considering walking over there and just telling them to fuck.”

“You get it too?” Michael asks, throwing his head back in laughter when Luke solemnly nods his head. “D’you think Calum will be there tonight? Oh he’s so pretty! He has such lovely eyes,” Michael says in some weird falsetto, which Luke guesses is an imitation of Ashton.

Luke laughs and drains the rest on his drink, holding the empty glass up to Michael. “You want one?” he asks. “I’m buying.”

“Sure, thanks,” Michael says, ten thousand watt smile plastered on his face. “Just a coke for me, though. I’m designated driver.” When Luke orders the drinks, he can feel Michael slide a little closer to him. He rests his forearms on the bar, watching the bartender pull his pint intently to keep his eyes from Michael because he knows once he looks he won’t be able to stop.

“So, Lucas,” Michael starts, resting back against the bar beside Luke, elbow touching Luke’s forearm. “How did you like the gig?” Luke tries to regulate his breathing as he thinks back to the feeling of Michael pressed solid against him, to the feeling of Michael’s arms around his waist, to the almost kiss. He liked the gig very much, and wouldn’t mind going to another one if he thought Michael was going to be there.

“It was good,” Luke squeaks out, glad that he can busy himself with paying the bartender so he doesn’t start telling Michael that his chest feels really nice and looks like it would be very comfortable to snuggle against.

He slides Michael his coke, their fingers brushing, and Luke tries to hide the fact he’s blushing but knows it’s futile. He wants to present himself as a confident, eye-liner wearing punk, and not some dorky, barely legal kid. “Thanks,” Michael says, smiling at Luke again, and Luke wants to grab the front of Michael’s jacket and pull him in, kiss that smile off his face. And if he was two or three more drinks in, maybe he’d have the courage to do it.

“Looks like the love birds have gone off,” Michael says, waggling his eyebrows. Luke does a quick scan of the room and confirms that, yes, Calum and Ashton have left.

“I hope they sort their shit out,” Luke says. “I mean, they both can’t be that oblivious.”

Michael lets out that husky chuckle again and it really shouldn’t turn Luke on that much. Luke glances at him, watches his Adam’s apple work as he swallows some of his soda, neck a little damp from sweat and all Luke wants to do is taste it.

He surprises himself with how well he’s able to keep up the conversation with Michael. He’s only had three drinks, not even drunk enough to have that false confidence, and the fact that Michael is the most flirtatious bastard Luke has ever met is definitely not helping. He laughs at all of Luke’s stupid jokes, and sends these coy little smirks his way which just makes Luke’s stomach do some funny shit.

“Aw man,” Michael says, resting his head on his hand. “That’s rough,” he sympathises after Luke tells him about the time he walked in on his then-boyfriend having a threesome at one of his classmate’s graduation party. If he’s being completely honest, he was a little glad because he was about to break up with him anyway and the whole ordeal just made it easier on Luke. But Michael is looking at him with huge puppy eyes and a little pout so Luke doesn’t mind playing the asshole ex card.

“I got over it pretty quickly,” Luke says, staring at his interlocked hands. “I mean, he wasn’t the love of my life or anything. I don’t even know why we were together in the first place, we had nothing in common. He was a jock, I was a music nerd. I’m amazed it lasted as long as it did.” (A whopping three months, he thinks.)

“I hate my exes,” Michael deadpans. “I dated complete nut jobs. I don’t know if they were crazy when we started dating and I just didn’t see it, or if I’m toxic and turn everyone I have a relationship with loony.” Luke nods sombrely – he’s been there. “One of them put my FIFA game in the microwave ‘cause I didn’t wanna go to a club with him.” (Luke can’t help the excited feeling that goes through his veins when Michael says “him”.)

“I wouldn’t put your FIFA in the microwave,” Luke says monotonously, and then mentally slaps himself because _what the fuck?_

“Thanks. I wouldn’t cheat on you with two dudes at the same time.”

“Actually, it was one dude and some girl.”

Michael hisses through his teeth. “Ouch.”

They stand in silence as Luke looks out over the dance floor. The music has toned down a considerable amount – more of a dull thud than the loud screaming it was when he first came here. The lights are still dim, and the place is still packed, but most of the people seem to have gone. His friend included. Michael is pressed against his right side, a firm, solid warmth beside him. It feels nice when Michael leans against him, resting his head on Luke’s shoulder.

“I was supposed to give Ashton a ride home,” Michael muses, swirling the almost melted ice cubes around the bottom of his glass. The condensation has made his fingers a little wet and shiny, and Luke can’t take his eyes off them.

Luke stands staring at the door, almost waiting for Calum to come back in. “Calum was meant to get a taxi with me.”

“Assholes,” Michael chuckles.

“At least they’re getting laid,” Luke grumbles. It comes out a lot more agitated than he meant, but Calum could have at least given him a heads up before he left him stranded at a bar that he’s not even one hundred percent sure of the location of.

Michael emits a low laugh, one that sounds like it came from his chest and Luke grips his glass a little tighter. “Jealous, Luke?”

“Of course. Ashton’s really hot.”

“Who’s hotter?” Michael asks. “Me or Ashton?” Luke looks at him then, and kind of wants to punch him for being so cocky. He’s smirking at Luke, a mixture of amusement and glee dancing in his eyes as he chews on his bottom lip. The black around his eyes is smudged, amplified by his ivory skin, and his hair is mussed up, sticking out in every direction. He looks predatory, staring at Luke like he wants to eat him. Luke would gladly let him.

He swallows, his dry throat clicking when he does so. He wants to be as flirty as Michael, draw it out for a little while longer and rile Michael up, but he’s never been good at that sort of thing so he decides to be blunt. “You,” he says, and enjoys the way Michael’s eyes widen, his lip falling from between his teeth and blooming a bright red as the blood flows back into it.

The shock on Michael’s face disappears almost as quickly as it appeared, and he’s smirking at Luke again. “Well, you’re not so bad yourself.”

Luke doesn’t know what to say, what to do, so just averts his gaze back to the dance floor as he feels Michael shuffle beside him.  The silence is a little awkward, the tension thick and heavy and Luke is trying to think of something funny to say to lighten the mood. He’s about to comment on couple of guys not too far away from them who are throwing peanuts into each other’s mouths, but Michael speaks before he can.

“Fuck it,” is all Luke hears before there are hands gripping his denim jacket, pulling him to face Michael. “Do you want to?” Michael asks, voice low as he looks up at Luke, fists tightening in the rough material. They’re close, Michael’s breath tickling Luke’s chin. Luke doesn’t answer, just closes the distance between his mouth and Michael’s, capturing Michael’s bottom lip between the both of his own.

Luke’s never been impulsive – always gone along with everyone else, always making plans and sticking. So he decides, for once in his life, to do what he wants, take what he wants. He’s never been this brash with someone before, always dancing around people for months to make sure they like him as much as he likes them. But it’s obvious Michael likes him and is willing to give himself up to Luke, of only for a night, and really, how could Luke refuse?

Michael’s lips are as plump and soft as they look, and taste like sugar. Probably from all the coke he was dinking. Luke can’t help but run his tongue along Michael’s bottom lip, not even expecting Michael to open his mouth and let Luke in, but just to taste him, to _feel_ him.

The hands that were gripping Luke’s jacket move down to hold his hips, fingers sliding into his belt loops and pulling Luke closer until there’s no room between them. Luke can feel it, the stirring in his stomach, and he needs to get Michael out of this damn bar.

He pulls away from Michael, grinning when he hears the little noise Michael makes when they’re lips disconnect. He takes in Michael’s blown eyes, red lips and pink cheeks, and wonders how he got so lucky. Michael’s tongue pokes out to moisten his lips and it takes all of Luke’s self restraint to keep from diving back in and taking that tongue into his own mouth.

“Wanna get out of here?” Luke asks, his voice heavy.

Michael moans, kissing Luke on the lips again before grabbing his hand and pulling him towards the door.

***

Michael drags Luke to some car park at the back of the bar. There are four cars scattered about it, and Michael heads toward a black, somewhat busted up Chevy. The kind that has big leather seats that can fit three in the front and still has a tape deck. He can’t say that he’s surprised. He could never imagine Michael in a Toyota Corolla, dropping the kids off at nana’s for Sunday brunch so he can go golfing with his work buddies.

Somewhere between Luke wondering how expensive insurance must be, and if it’s heavy on gas, Michael has him pressed against the passenger door, his lips sucking harsh marks onto Luke’s neck.

Luke moans, feels it ripping up his throat before he can even think about stopping it, but doesn’t feel embarrassed after Michael presses his crotch against Luke’s thigh and Luke can feel what is definitely an erection. “Michael,” he breathes out, threading his fingers through Michael’s pink hair and tugging lightly. As good as Michael’s mouth feels on his neck, he wants it back on his own.

“Michael,” Luke repeats, tugging a little harder so Michael gets the message and finally presses his lips against Luke’s again. He kisses ferociously, like he means it, and Luke can actually feel his bones turn to goo. He feels hot, his blood boiling from lust and he just can’t get Michael close enough.

“Wanna get in?” Michael asks, reaching around Luke to open the car door. Luke moves aside so Michael can swing the door open, and when he does he gestures for Luke to get in first. He slides easily across the plush leather seat to the driver’s side, nerves, excitement and lust coiling in his gut and driving him crazy.

The loud bang of Michael closing the door pulls him from his stupor, and then Michael is tugging at Luke’s thigh and pushing at his shoulder, and Luke understands what he wants. He lays out across the seats while Michael manoeuvres to lie on top of him, one knee of the seat beside Luke’s hip and one foot planted on the floor to keep himself balanced.

His hair is brushing the ceiling of the car, and it’s not nearly big enough for the two of them to fit comfortably. The air in the car is hot and sticky already, but Luke doesn’t care because Michael is leaning over him, feral look in his eyes, and Luke is so turned on he might actually explode.

“Christ, Luke,” Michael says, leaning down and taking Luke’s lips in his own. “You’re so fucking hot.” Luke puts his hands on Michael’s hips and brings his own up to meet them, desperate for any kind of friction.

Michael grinds down on him and Luke opens his legs wider, tries giving Michael as much space as he needs. He wants to help, but isn’t too sure that he can, only able to lie there and take what Michael’s giving him. As Michael moves, Luke runs his hands under Michael’s t-shirt. It’s damp with sweat, and Luke’s not surprised. Michael’s leather jacket is heavy against the backs of his hands, and he really doesn’t know how Michael can still be wearing it.

He takes his hands from Michael’s soft back to slide the jacket off his shoulders. Michael doesn’t stop moving as he tosses the jacket into the back seat. “Michael..” Luke says, not sure why he said it, but wanting to say something anyway.

“I got ya,” Michael says, breath hot against Luke’s ear. “’m gonna make you feel good, Luke. Gonna make ya come.” Luke’s stomach tightens, his dick twitching in the constricting fabric of jeans. He needs them off.

Michael looks sinful moving above him, pink hair clumping on his forehead, bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he grinds down hard. Luke can hardly keep his hands to himself, running them up and down Michael’s back under his shirt, rubbing across his abdomen and feeling the soft little hairs tickling the palm of his hand. He feels a jolt of satisfaction every time Michael’s stomach clenches a little under his touch.

“Please,” he says into Michael’s hair as Michael moves to suck more marks onto his neck. His mind briefly flashes to the family dinner he’s attending tomorrow but he literally could not give a fuck.

“What do you want, Luke?” Michael asks. _Everything_ , Luke thinks, as Michael grinds down particularly hard and pulls a whine from Luke. He wants everything Michael is willing to give him. He _needs_ everything Michael is willing to give him. And he needs it right the fuck now.

He cups Michael’s cheeks in his hands and pulls Michael’s face from his neck, coaxing it so that Michael’s eyes are looking into his own. “Want you to fuck me,” Luke says.

Michael’s eyes practically roll to the back of his head as he moans. “Fuck, yeah, fuck. I can do that,” he says, kissing Luke again as he takes his wallet out of his tight pocket and pulls a sachet of lube and a condom from it, throwing the wallet onto the dashboard and dropping the foil packets beside Luke’s head.

Luke wants to snigger and make a joke about Michael being well prepared, but his train of thought crashes when he feels Michael’s fingers making quick work of his belt and the button on his pants. Michael tugs Luke’s jeans roughly down around his thighs, enthusiasm making his movements rushed and sloppy.

When Luke’s boxers join his jeans, he winces at the feeling of air touching his sensitive cock. It’s too much and not nearly enough, and so he can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut and wrap his own hand around himself, giving a gentle tug, smearing a bit of his precome around the head and bucking up into his own fist. He’s glad he wore slip on Vans because unlacing Converse and trying to tug them off would really have killed the mood and by now, Michael has pulled Luke’s jeans right off, throwing them into the back to join his jacket.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” Luke hears, and when he opens his eyes Michael is staring at him, mouth open a little bit as he watches Luke move his hand up and down his own cock. “You’re gonna kill me,” Michael groans, shuffling back towards the door, his arse resting on one of Luke’s shins, before he leans down and licks at the tip of Luke’s cock before he closes his mouth over it.

Luke squeals, a noise he will deny making for the rest of his life. Michael sucks at the tip, swirling his tongue around the slit and Luke can feel tears building behind his eyes. He blinks hard, trying to keep them back. When Michael starts bobbing his head, Luke feels Michael’s soft lips brushing against the soft webbing between his first finger and thumb, where Luke still has his hand squeezing his base. It’s weird, but good, and Luke starts moving his hand so that it bumps against Michael’s mouth every time he goes down.

As pretty as Michael’s red lips look normally, they’re _beautiful_ stretched around Luke, and he can’t take his eyes from where his dick is sliding between them, glistening and shiny with Michael’s spit. Luke’s own hand prevents Michael going further, but he doesn’t care. If Michael even took him a centimetre more Luke would finish way too quickly.

Michael’s hand slides up his hip, up his side, and lands on the seat next to Luke’s head looking for the sachet of lube. Luke wants to help, but can’t even turn his head to see if he can find it. His body is numb and completely on fire at the same time, and he knows he’s making the most desperate noises, but he can’t stop.

Michael takes his mouth from Luke, shuffling and lifting his weight off Luke’s leg. Luke wants to protest, wants Michael to touch him again but he knows he wouldn’t have lasted much longer if Michael’s tongue had kept doing that _thing_ to the underside of his cock that had black spots dancing in front of his vision. Michael pushes at Luke’s shin, gets Luke to bend his leg at the knee and pushing his thighs a little further apart. “It’s easier if you’re on your knees but I wanna see you face,” Michael says as he looks back at Luke. Luke just nods, ready for whatever Michael wants to do.

He knows it’s about to happen, but he still bucks up in surprise when he feels Michael’s thumb pressing flat over his rim. It’s cold and slippery, and Luke tries to push down on it, but Michael has a tight grip on his hips, keeping him still.

“Want it,” Luke moans out, his voice raw and needy. “Please, Michael.” Michael just mutters something that sounds like ‘shit, Luke’ before there’s a pressure at Luke’s hole and the first finger is sliding in. It’s familiar, the burn, and Luke wants to tell Michael to add another but can’t seem to find his voice. Michael’s finger moves slowly, trying his best not to hurt Luke. He rubs soothing circles on Luke’s hipbone with thumb as he starts to add a second finger.

Luke’s breath is shaky and ragged, coming out in short pants as he tries to hold himself together. Michael’s fingers brush against his prostate and he has to turn and bury his face in the crook of his elbow, bite on the skin on the inside of his arm to keep his noises muffled. “There, baby?” Michael asks, and he sounds just as fucked out as Luke feels. Luke can’t even nod to let Michael know he’s okay, just grunts and hopes Michael understands.

He can feel Michael adding another finger as he squirms on the seat, not sure whether he wants to take Michael’s fingers deeper or get away from them, the sensation of them bumping against his prostate making his head spin.

“Michael, Michael I’m ready,” Luke says. Michael doesn’t remove his fingers, instead leans down and coaxes Luke’s arm away from his face to press a soft kiss to his lips. It feels odd and kind of intimate giving their situation, but it makes something in Luke’s chest flare up.

“You sure?” Michael asks, his hand still holding on to Luke’s forearm and sliding up to interlock their fingers.

Luke hears Michael tear the condom wrapper open; can hear the slick noise of Michael’s hand spreading the lube on himself. He expects to feel Michael press against his entrance, but instead he feels a hand cup his cheek and move his face so that his gaze locks on Michael’s, who’s eyes are blown and wild.  “Want you to ride me.” Michael says. “Can ya do that, Lukey? Wanna ride me?”

“Yes.” Luke moves his hands to the back of Michael’s neck. “Yes,” he says again, muffled by Michael’s lips. Michael moans against him before pulling back. Luke manages to pull himself into a sitting position, looking over at Michael who’s sitting on the passenger’s side, jeans and boxers pooled around his ankles. He opens his arms, an invitation for Luke to come to him, and Luke does, throwing one leg across Michael’s thighs, knees bracketing his hips.

He kneels over Michael for a moment, taking in the sight of the man beneath him. Michael’s pale skin is now flushed pink and Luke can see that it creeps under the collar of his shirt, wonders how far down it goes. He bows forward to capture Michael’s lips in a kiss because they’re even redder and more inviting. Michael’s hands entangle in Luke’s hair, pulling Luke closer against his mouth. Michael’s tongue is running along the seam of his lips, and Luke gladly parts them to give Michael access.

Luke reaches a hand underneath himself, grabbing Michael’s cock and guiding it to his hole. Michael sucks in a breath through clenched teeth as Luke starts to lower himself, tries to keep his hips still and let Luke adjust to the feeling of Michael filling him up. He shoves his face into Luke’s sweaty neck and wraps his arms around Luke’s waist when Luke bottoms out, his ass resting on Michael’s lap. He’s trying to ground himself while he waits for Luke to start moving, busying himself by starting to suck on Luke’s neck again, over one of the bruises he left on him earlier.

Luke is unbelievably tight and warm around him. Luke he readjusts the position of his knees and starts moving his hips in small circles, getting accustomed to the size of Michael inside him. The burn has already gave away to the pleasure, so he lifts himself off of Michael a tiny bit before slamming back down.

They groan in unison, Michael’s head thumping back against the soft plush of the seat as Luke’s hands grip his shoulders. “So good, Michael,” Luke says, movements getting faster and more frantic. “Feels so fucking - _ah -_  good.”

Michael kisses Luke again, pulls him so their chests are flush together as Luke continues to move on his cock, shaking and stomach clenching as he nears his orgasm. Michael feels his own approaching, and so reaches out a hand to wrap around Luke’s cock and help him finish. He doesn’t expect Luke to smack his hand away and shake his head. “Just you,” Luke mumbles against his lips. “Just like this.”

Michael moans, low and filthy, and thrusts his hips up, trying to find that spot inside Luke to drive him crazy. He knows his found it when Luke screams, mutters “there, there” in between the kisses he’s pressing against Michael’s lips. Michael aims for the same spot again and again, the noises Luke is making getting higher in volume and frequency.

It’s Luke that comes first, covering both their shirts as he releases and slumps against Michael, too tired to even care about the mess he made. Michael follows shortly after, emptying into the condom and stroking Luke’s hair as they ride out the aftershocks, Luke whimpering into Michael’s neck.  

“Holy shit,” Michael says. Luke couldn’t agree more.

***

They get cleaned up as best they can. Michael retrieves a black hoody from under the seat, handing it Luke who quickly strips out of his ruined t-shirt and shimmies into the sweater. He’s putting his shoes back on when Michael speaks up.

“That was uh... that was something.” Michael scratches awkwardly at the back of his neck with one hand and fiddles with the keys in the other.

“Yeah,” Luke says, resting back against the black leather.

“Want me to take you –“ Michael starts but is interrupted by Luke’s cell phone screaming at him from his pocket.

“Sorry,” Luke says, looking at the screen and seeing Calum’s contact information flashing there. “I better take this.”

He doesn’t even get a chance to say hello before Calum is asking where he is.

“I’m still near the bar, why?” Luke asks, eyes still lingering on Michael who’s resting his head against the fogged up window.

“Wanna go halfsies on a taxi?”

“What about Ashton?” Luke asks, fingering the hole in the knee of his jeans.

“We’re going on a date tomorrow evening. But he’s getting home with the band and with equipment and stuff...”

“Fine, I’ll meet you at the door in five minutes.”

“Where you goin’?” Michael asks when Luke hangs up the phone.

“Calum’s at the bar. We’re gonna get a taxi home.” He really doesn’t want to leave Michael if there’s no chance of ever running into him again. He’s wondering if it’s weird or crossing some sort of boundary if he were to ask for Michael’s number.

“I had a really good time tonight,” Michael says, and it’s the first time Luke’s seen him looking somewhat sheepish since they met. “And not just like... the sex. I mean, obviously that was awesome, but like, talking to you was nice too,” Michael finishes and he can’t bring himself to meet Luke’s eyes, staring at the Chevrolet symbol in the centre of his steering wheel.

“Me too.”  Luke says as he tries his best to ignore the jittery feeling in his stomach.

“Do you um.... Do you maybe wanna, like, I don’t know, get a coffee or something sometime?”

It’s Luke’s turn to raise an eyebrow. “Are you asking me on a date?”

“Maybe.”

***

When he wakes he can hear chattering downstairs, loud laughs and excited mutters.

He feels exhausted. He’s not hungover because he didn’t even have that much to drink but his muscles are stiff and aching and his ass hurts like nobody’s business. He lays under his blanket cocoon, warm and comfortable, until his mother is barging into his room, opening his blinds and shouting “It’s nearly dinner time, get dressed,” as she leaves the room.

He sighs and trudges over to his wardrobe, pulling out random jeans and a plaid shirt. It’s Jack, not the fucking queen. He doesn’t need to dress fancy.

When he catches his reflection in the mirror, he wants to laugh at how horrific he looks. He has no hope of taming his hair into a quiff, his eyes are red rimmed and bloodshot, and his neck is littered with angry purple marks. There’s eyeliner smudged over his cheeks, and he rubs at it with the sleeve of his shirt but it will _not_ come off so he just leaves it. He shakes his head and accepts defeat before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Oh, Luke honey,” Liz says when she spots him. “I asked you not to drink too much last night.” Luke grumbles some form of apology, pulls the collar of his shirt to try and hide _some_ of the marks, and heads towards the coffee pot only to be beaten to it by his father.

“No. Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes. Go say hello to Jack.” He wants to protest because he literally cannot function without caffeine, but he’s already pissed his parents off by turning up looking like he’s back from the land of the dead or something, and so trudges past his dad into the sitting room where football is playing on the television and Jack is sitting on the couch with his college friend. His dad walks in behind him and claps him on the shoulder before sitting in his usual armchair to catch the end of the game.

“Jack,” Andy says, “do you want to say hello to your brother?”

Jack stands up and pulls Luke into a hug, saying “hey sport” into his ear and Luke kind of wants to punch him in the stomach. He’s only doing it because their dad is sitting a couple of meters away. If they were by themselves Jack would lovingly call him a dickhead and maybe give him a brotherly thump. This affection thing is weird.

“Are you not going to introduce him to your friend?” Andy asks, eyes glued to the television where the Sydney Swans are down by a couple of points and the game is coming to a close.

It’s then that Luke registers the other person in the room. The other person noticed _him_ though, because his eyes have not left Luke, staring at the marks on his neck, and his mouth is gaping open.

Luke’s blood runs a little cold when he looks at Jack’s friend. At the pink hair. At _Michael_.

“Luke this is Michael, and Michael this is my idiot little brother Luke.”

**Author's Note:**

> aye so that's that. I tried, and I'm sorry.  
> but if you wanna yell at me for that or cry over clemmings with me my tumblr is t1mburton :)


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